


until your body's numb

by rumpledlinen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledlinen/pseuds/rumpledlinen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's always who she comes back to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	until your body's numb

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally written for a fill at the 1dkinkmeme, finally re-posting it here and at my LJ. um. niall/eleanor is just a good pairing guys really honest.

Above all, she doesn't feel guilty about it.   
  
Usually, she would. She doesn't believe in  cheating (though the word makes her roll her eyes with the childlike implications of it; as though a game of chess and a relationship are on the same level), has never condoned it.   
  
But - Niall. He's sweet and blonde and fucking adorable, and she can't stand to see him sad.   
  
And so she follows him into his room, one day, when he's looking dejected, and sits next to him on the bed, hand on his leg.   
  
"Niall," and they've never had a proper conversation, alone, but that doesn't matter, because she cares for him, has always cared for him. "Are you all right?"   
  
He bites his lip, and shrugs, and she knows what that means.   
  
(And maybe it makes her feel good, knowing that were it anyone else he'd have the whole story out already. Maybe she likes the feeling that she's special, that she's something worth being quiet for - because Lou never shuts up and he never makes her feel anything like the way she feels now.)   
  
She smiles at him, and reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together. She kisses a knuckle, soft, and bites her lip.   
  
"I don't like when you're sad," she says, and she sounds silly, but - she chances a glance at him, and the look in his eyes says he doesn't mind, not at all.   
  
She leans forward, then, and waits for him to push her away, to say something ( Louis , maybe, or  no ), but he doesn't.   
  
And so she kisses him.   
  
He releases a breath and kisses her back, hand flipping to tangle his fingers with her, and he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat.   
  
(And he's so small, so fucking small - and she expects to lean him back against the sheets, to take control, but he surprises her, leaning over her, grinning in the way only he can.)   
  
"I want," he says, and then he clears his throat, studying her, "you," after a long pause.   
  
She smiles, and kisses him, nodding, pulling him closer by the hips.   
  
(They don't fuck, that day. He goes down on her, licks inside of her like he wants to, like Lou never does, and she moans and rests her hand atop his head and comes almost violently, rocking against the sheets.   
  
She gets him off, quickly, barely getting his jeans off before he's licking over his lip, kissing her, desperate, and when he comes it seems peaceful,  right .)   
  
"Better?" she asks, when it's over, when the afterglow has all but faded and it's just the two of them, left with what they've done.   
  
"Is that all this was?" Niall asks her, and he doesn't move, but holds her gaze, looking sad, almost nervous. "You feeling sorry for me?"   
  
She doesn't know how to answer him, and so she links their hands together, holding tight, keeping him there.   
  
He shakes his head, and sits up, closes his eyes. "I don't - Louis," he says in a voice that she doesn't like, doesn't want to know.   
  
"I want you," she whispers, and she sits up, leaning against his back, kissing his neck. "I do, I promise."   
  
He doesn't believe her, that's clear, but he turns and kisses her forehead, an almost tender gesture that makes her want to cry. "Good," he says, simple, short, and then he's getting up, grabbing her clothes, getting them together, handing them to her.   
  
"Lou'll worry if I wake up in your room," she says, nodding, and gets dressed quickly, kissing him on the cheek before pulling away. "I - I mean it, yeah?" she tries, biting her lip.   
  
He nods at her, quiet again, and she smiles, rests a hand against his cheek, and then she's gone, crawling into Lou's bed beside him.   
  
("Where were you?" Lou asks her, voice sleep-rough, and she swallows.   
  
"Talking to Niall."   
  
Lou smiles. "He's a nice lad," and then he's asleep again, snoring gently next to her.   
  
She should feel guilty, but she doesn't, just  wrong .)   
  
She doesn't sleep much that night, staring at the ceiling, and she doesn't know what she's going to do but she wants him, again, all of the time, wants his quiet air and his soft smile only for her.   
  
Fuck , she thinks, but it's half-hearted.   
  
(Eleanor's never been good at not taking what she wants.)   
  
She honestly doesn't know if it's going to happen again.   
  
(She  wants it to, though, and that's strange, feels wrong; she wants Niall in a way she doesn't want anyone else.)   
  
She leaves the hotel with barely more than a kiss goodbye to Lou, and then she's gone, going back where she  belongs , where there aren't blue eyes staring at her as though she's the end and the beginning of the world.   
  
She leaves, and Niall watches her, doesn't say a single word.   
  
And she loves him for it.   
  
*   
  
They don't see each other again for a long while, until the tour's over.   
  
Lou doesn't fly her back, and she doesn't ask, lives in her own little world, away from them (and she wants to talk to Niall, sometimes, wants to just hear his breathing, but she's never been one for that sort of romance and so she pushes down that urge; it would be like promising him something she's never going to act on, and she's not that cruel).    
  
But when they're back, she picks them up at the airport, ostensibly for all of them but really for Lou (and Niall, because he's been looking a bit haggard lately and she just wants to be sure he's okay).   
  
She hugs all of them, each in turn; Lou is a bit dispassionate and Harry's too thin and Zayn shakes in her arms and Liam smiles at her, kisses her forehead.   
  
And Niall.  Niall . He simply looks at her before pulling her close, breathing her in.   
  
"It doesn't have to happen again," he murmurs in her ear, and she knows that he wants it but that he  means it.   
  
She pulls back, and she smiles a wicked smile. "Of course it does," she whispers, mouths, and his eyes go wide.   
  
*   
  
Later, they talk.   
  
The rest of the boys are asleep around them, and it's just Eleanor and Niall, sharing a bag of crisps between them.   
  
"How's life?" Niall asks her, and he studies her, the way she contemplates him, the way her hair falls over her shoulder, catching in the moonlight.   
  
(With anyone else, it would sound like a mere pleasantry, and maybe that's what it is; but now, in the dim light and the soft noise of the city she loves, it feels like he means it, like he  cares .)   
  
She closes her eyes.   
  
"I've been all right," she says, "busy," which isn't entirely a lie but isn't entirely the truth, either.   
  
Niall stares at her like he understands what she isn't saying, and he nods.   
  
And then it's pouring out of her, "I missed you," words tumbling together, too-fast out of her mouth.   
  
Niall smiles, a soft, sweet smile that feels like a secret, and nods. "Missed you too, El," and there's the nickname she's always hated but it doesn't sound anything but kind on his tongue.   
  
El , she thinks, and maybe that's who she is; and so it's El that kisses him again, that stands up, pulling him by his sleeve into an empty bedroom (it's Harry's, she thinks, but she can't be fucked to find out - and she hopes it isn't Lou's because she may be this kind of person but not  that ).   
  
They still don't fuck, this time - El gives him a blowjob, before he can stop her, whispers "I really want to," into the curve of his hip, and he's nodding, biting down on his lip, hard.   
  
He tastes - better than Lou, she thinks, and she crawls back up his body to kiss him again, hard.   
  
She guides his fingers into her panties and tosses her head back, fucking herself on his fingers, and he's staring down at her like he can't believe what's happening.   
  
"El," he whispers, a soft, secret word just for her, "god, you're beautiful," and he twists his fingers and just like that she's coming, hard, gasping out sharp breaths.   
  
She closes her eyes and comes down from her high, flopping down onto the bed next to him.   
  
"You really think that?" she muses without really meaning to, running a hand through his hair.   
  
He frowns. "Hmm?"   
  
"You think I'm beautiful?" she asks him in a small voice (and it isn't a competition but Lou's never been one to tell her that - pretty, hot, fuckable, maybe, but not beautiful, despite having an entire fucking song about it).   
  
Niall smiles, and it shines in his eyes, in the reverent hand he reaches out toward her, resting on the curve of her hipbone. "Yeah," he whispers back, and it feels like a secret.   
  
She grabs his hand and pulls it up to her lips, kissing between each finger, and she feels tears well up in her eyes.   
  
"Shh," he's whispering, right there, "shh," and he lets her cry the tears she never has (because that's not what she does, not who she is, she has enough energy to match Lou and then some - but here, now, she feels like she can empty herself, and Niall will be there to catch her).    
  
"I'm sorry," she whispers, shaking her head, and her lower lip trembles.    
  
He kisses her, and shakes his head. "No," he whispers, kissing her again, and again, and then, "stay," he asks her, voice barely there.   
  
She studies him and then she grabs him by the hand again, leading them to where they were before, around the pile of boys.   
  
They curl into each other, El's back against his stomach, and it's as close as she's willing to get.   
  
(She can feel herself falling for him, for the boy with the eyes and the heart, and he deserves more but she wants him all to herself.   
  
"I don't love you," she whispers, anyway, because she doesn't want to delude either of them; and then, and then, "and I'm staying with Lou."   
  
"I know," he tells her, already half-asleep, and he kisses the skin at the back of her neck, doesn't say anything else.   
  
She closes her eyes, and she still doesn't feel guilty, doesn't  let herself feel guilty, but her hand tightens around Niall's arm and she wants.)   
  
  
  
And then, for a long time, there's nothing.   
  
It's nothing to do with you , Niall tells her, in a whisper in his bedroom,  I just - need some time to think , and this is the most he's talked to her in a long time.    
  
She closes her eyes and nods, because things end, because everything  ends .   
  
"Okay," she whispers, and it's too-loud in the still room. She reaches out to grip his hand, just once. "Okay."   
  
He nods at her, smiling a bit, and he looks sad, sad and lonely.   
  
And she wants - but it's not hers to take if he doesn't, too.   
  
Instead, she leaves.   
  
*   
  
Louis looks at her differently, nowadays.   
  
When she sees him in person - which isn't often, because - because she has friends and she can't drop everything to go see him for a couple of days when he has downtime - it's slower, softer than it used to be.   
  
Eleanor smiles at him, more, and she reaches out for his hand and that's never been how they are, but Louis goes with it, leaning back into her touch.   
  
And if she wishes it were Niall instead of him; well, that's for her to know, only her.   
  
(She thinks that Niall might know, though, because he looks at her sometimes when he thinks she doesn't see, and he seems contemplative, almost.   
  
And it's terrible, but she wants him to break, wants him to come back to her.)   
  
Louis comes to her, one day, and grabs her hand and leads her into the bedroom, and she smiles at him and she doesn't want but she does, she does.   
  
And when they fuck (because that was inevitable, because her body wants it even if she herself doesn't) it's rough, and hard, and she comes, surprised.   
  
She misses Niall most, in that moment, and after she curls in on herself, resting her head on Louis' chest, and sleeps.   
  
*   
  
She goes to Niall, after a while.   
  
Her head is bowed and she whispers into the curve of his ear, "I want you and I'm sorry but -"   
  
He cuts her off, and he smiles at her, nodding.   
  
It's just the two of them; the rest of the boys are out, but Eleanor'd feigned illness and Niall had just said  'm tired, boys .   
  
And so they're alone; and it feels like they have all the time in the world.    
  
(It's all an illusion, that, but she likes it; likes that when his fingers skim across the curve of her spine that they have forever to memorize each other.)   
  
He smiles at her, on the bed, and rests a hand on her hip, under her tanktop.   
  
"You're beautiful," he whispers, and  you're beautiful is what he means; he doesn't speak in riddles, her Niall, he's never been anything but honest with her.   
  
She nods, and he kisses the top of her head.   
  
It's not like with Louis; it's not rough, there's not the  promise of anything more.   
  
It's a while before she realizes she's shaking, but Niall's arms are around her, holding her, tight.   
  
"Shh," he's whispering, and she wants him in every bit of her but he's so safe, around her, and she closes her eyes. "Shh, El, you're okay."   
  
(He's  here , with her, holding her, and she hadn't realized just how much she needed this, missed it.)   
  
"Niall," she whispers, and fists his t-shirt in her hands, presses her forehead against his chest.   
  
He's quiet, but she feels him, waiting for her to continue; and he won't rush her, that's the thing, he'll wait as long as she needs.   
  
"I just," and here she pauses for a long time, "I want - you." And it's the same thing she said before but it's different, now, and he seems to get that, nodding at her.   
  
He waits for a long time, though, and then he bites at her lip, not hard, and he tangles a hand in her hair, kissing her, slow, deep.   
  
When she feels him, hard against her thigh, she pulls back, biting her lip.   
  
"I want," and she stops herself again, looking down, Niall above her, watching her, intent, "you to fuck me." The last words are quick, and Niall looks at her, eyes wide.   
  
"Okay," he whispers, again, and kisses her, a bit more insistent, now.   
  
(He makes her come twice before he fucks her; first with his fingers and then his tongue, and then he's  inside her , and it's so slow, it feels like more, like everything.   
  
And when it's over, El curls in on herself, just the same, but this time Niall's heartbeat is soothing next to her ear.   
  
She feels guilt, now, creeping up on her, because - it's never felt like cheating, before, but she feels the weight of what she's done, heavy on her shoulders.   
  
She hears the key in the door and she walks out of the room, quick, making sure she looks just fine.   
  
Later, Niall looks at her, his eyes carefully unaffected, and she feels like shit but - there's nothing else she can do.)   
  
*   
  
Her hands shake, when she's not around him.   
  
It's silly; so fucking silly, but it's the way the fans of One Direction treat her, it's the way she's forever called a slut, a beard, a thousand things that don't mean anything except in dozens, hundreds. She can't log onto Twitter without being bombarded by it all, without having to look at the things that they say and wonder if it's true.   
  
(Because maybe she is a terrible person; because she wants Niall more than she wants Louis, and when he tells her  I love you , soft, almost like a secret, she can't help but feel the guilt course through, pound in her veins.   
  
And she whispers it back but she doesn't mean it, anymore.)   
  
She Skypes Niall, one night. It's the first time she's done so but she needs him, needs him like she's never needed anything before (she's supposed to be strong, her mother always said so; but sometimes it's too much and she just needs to know that someone'll catch her).   
  
Niall smiles at her, a quirk of the lips, when he sees her, and waves a bit. "Hey, El."   
  
And it's that that makes her crumple; the nickname, the name she's always hated but not now, not with him, never with him.   
  
His eyes widen but he doesn't say anything to her, and she wishes now more than ever that he were  here , with her, not in America, but in her bed, lying next to her.   
  
She doesn't need him to fuck her, doesn't want that; she just wants to not be alone, to reach out and feel his heartbeat, just like hers.   
  
"What's wrong?" Niall asks her, voice low, a soft lilt to the edges, and she presses her lips together and shakes her head.   
  
(She can't. Not yet. She needs - but she can't.)   
  
Niall nods. "Okay," he whispers, and it's a long time of him just looking at her, watching her, as she breaks and puts herself back together.   
  
She takes in a shuddering breath and reaches out to touch the screen. She feels supremely stupid but Niall gets it, and his smile gets a touch bigger and he reaches, too, touches his fingers to hers.   
  
And it hits her, then -  I love you , hard, like a freight train, and she's terrified and comfortable, all in one.   
  
(This isn't a love story, what they have. She knows that this can't go on much longer, that everything's going to blow up - but she loves and she's sure of that, and maybe it can be enough to calm her.)   
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks her, and she nods.   
  
She tells him everything - everything about Lou and about Niall and about the fans, about being alone and feeling unwanted, about stress (as though he doesn't know about that) - and when she's through she feels silly, again, feels so dumb, but Niall just nods at her, contemplative.   
  
"I'm sorry," he tells her, when she's through, and it doesn't feel patronizing, with him.   
  
She breathes out, hard, and nods. "Me, too."   
  
Niall pauses, chewing at his lip. "Do you want to stop - seeing me?"   
  
They've never put a label on it (quick fucks at first that have become so much more - that were always more, she can't lie to herself about it) but she shakes her head at it, at the beginning of talking about it.   
  
(They don't talk about it. They talk about everything else but never  it , always in general terms.)   
  
"I don't," she whispers, and then, "I'm awful."   
  
Niall quirks a smile. "You're not."   
  
"But - Louis," and she presses her lips together again, hands trembling.   
  
She looks up just in time to see Niall's face fall, his carefully composed nod.    
  
"Do you think you two will split up?" he asks, in a forcedly measured tone.   
  
She closes her eyes and shakes her head, because she knows what this means and she can't watch Niall's reaction, not to that.   
  
"Hey," she hears, and she unwillingly opens her eyes, watches him. "Hey, it's okay."   
  
(He cares so much for her, that's clear in everything he does, in the way he speaks to her, and he deserves someone better to love him, to want him, deserves someone better than  her in his life.)   
  
"It isn't, though," and she swallows, hard, past the tears. "It's not all right, it's -"   
  
"It is," and this is low, a murmur, like a secret, like a truth, and she finds herself nodding.   
  
He looks up for a second, and then nods. "Yeah, be out in a second," he tells someone, and then back at her. "I've got to go," and he sounds apologetic, truly sorry, "but - we'll talk later, yeah? Feel free to - you know - always text me."   
  
She nods, and forces a smile, wipes the tear tracks from her cheeks. "I will," she says, and then, quick, "I miss you."   
  
Niall swallows, visibly, and nods. "I miss you too, El," he whispers, and then, before she can react, he's shutting the video chat off, and she's alone.   
  
She curls up on her bed, knees hugged to her chest, and breathes out, feeling almost as though she's collapsing in on herself.   
  
(She feels a bit numb, now, and her fingers tremble but it's lessening.   
  
He makes her feel safe, and she knows that's ludicrous, that there's nothing to make her  un safe, but.  But .   
  
She closes her eyes and touches her computer, still warm from her conversation with him.   
  
I love him , she thinks, and it's less terrifying, already.)   
  
*   
  
“We need to tell Louis,” Niall says, one day.   
  
She frowns at him, tilting her head to the side. It’s early in the morning, for him, but the rest of the boys are asleep and these are the only times they can talk like this. She looks down at her hands. “Why?”   
  
“El,” he says, so soft, and she clears her throat.   
  
“I just - I don’t see why we have to ruin a good thing with -”   
  
“Because you’re dating him, not me.”   
  
She bites her lip. “And you would want to? Date me?”   
  
She watches the emotions flash across his face - a sort of hurt and then a forced indifference. “Dunno. I just think you need to talk to him.”   
  
It hurts, to have him say that. (Because she loves him, she wants to  date him and all of that shit. But that’s not how love works - it’s not white dresses and fairytale endings. It’s staying with the one you’re with even if there’s someone else, it’s breaking your heart to save another.)   
  
“Are you going to tell him?” Niall asks, in a low voice (and she’s never heard him like this before). “Or should I?”   
  
“That’s - I’ll do it,” because she needs Louis to know, needs to not be lying. She pauses, and looks at him. “And then what?”   
  
Niall frowns. “What do you mean?”   
  
“What - what happens after?”   
  
There’s a pregnant pause. Niall’s voice is strained when he finally gets back. “Are you asking me if we’re still going to be having sex?”   
  
“I - I guess, yeah.”   
  
“I don’t know, El.” He sounds tired, tired and sad. “But I can’t do this to Louis anymore. I hope you understand.”   
  
“Of course,” and she does (but she remembers the way he’d looked at her, that first time, and every time since, and her heart hurts).    
  
“Bye, El,” he whispers, and she smiles, nods, and watches him leave.   
  
She closes her eyes.   
  
*   
  
She tells Lou the next time they talk.   
  
“I’m - I have something to tell you,” she says, and it’s idiotic that this is over Skype but she can’t wait, not after Niall’d looked that hurt, that lonely.    
  
Lou frowns. “What is it?”   
  
“I need you to not hate me,” she starts.   
  
“Eleanor, what’s wrong?” His tone says <i>stop playing games</i> and <i>I know what’s going on but please tell me</i>.   
  
“I’m sleeping with - someone,” she says, looking down (and she’s not going to incriminate Niall if she doesn’t have to).   
  
Lou goes quiet. “What?”   
  
“I - it’s - I’m so sorry -”   
  
“Bullshit,” and he shakes his head, half-laughing, “bullshit, you’re not <i>sorry</i>, if you were you wouldn’t have -”   
  
“I am! I don’t think - you don’t know how sorry I am -” and she wasn’t sorry before but she is now, she <i>is</i>.   
  
“Was it once?”   
  
“What?”   
  
He’s staring at her, something almost cruel in his eyes. “Was it just once?”   
  
She looks at her hands, at the keys, and shakes her head. “Um. No. It -”   
  
“Then how can you say you’re sorry?”   
  
“It was a mistake -”    
  
“More than one, sounds like.”   
  
She bites down on her lip. “I’m telling you because -”   
  
“You want me to forgive you?”   
  
She chances a look up at him.   
  
He breathes out, sharp. “I can’t, honey. I’m sorry.”   
  
(And that’s the thing, is - it sounds like he really is, like he doesn’t hate her, even though by all rights he should.)   
  
“Just one thing,” and his voice sounds more than a little bit broken. “Is it someone I know?”   
  
Her heart jumps into her throat and she looks down. “Why - why would you ask me that?”   
  
“Eleanor,” and this is a low murmur.   
  
“I can’t tell you,” she whispers.   
  
She looks up in time to see his eyes shut, tight. “So it is, then.”   
  
He logs off, after he says that, and then she’s just looking at herself, reflected in the monitor.   
  
“Fuck,” she whispers, and she feels guilt crash into her with each moment (Lou didn’t deserve that, of course he didn’t; he deserves fairy-tale love and pretty girls and he deserves a happy relationship, above all).    
  
She doesn’t talk to Niall that night. She goes to sleep, by herself.    
  
( And that’s that , she thinks, but of course it isn’t, because even through the guilt she loves Niall.    
  
Whether he loves her or not (and she hopes he does but knows that’s wrong, knows she shouldn’t want that), well. She’ll figure it all out in the morning.)   
  
*   
  
Niall doesn’t talk to her, after that.   
  
She texts him - little things, <i> hello</i> and </i> are you there?</i> and <i> please talk to me, i need you</i> but he doesn’t answer her.   
  
And so two weeks pass; she’s alone, in her flat, with her school and her job.   
  
(She gets spectacularly drunk one night, alone, and she ends up calling him, hanging up as soon as the voicemail begins.   
  
She curls around a pillow and she feels the aching course through her, the loneliness fill her up until she can’t stand it.   
  
She throws her phone across the room and likes the  thunk it makes as it hits the carpet.)   
  
*   
  
They do a show in London.   
  
She doesn’t go but she thinks about it; she has the money, could go if she wanted but that might be too much, too soon.   
  
She stays at home that night and watches shit reality tv on her lonesome.   
  
Until there’s a knock at her door.   
  
Niall’s standing on her porch, and he looks wrecked - just showered, clothes thrown on.   
  
“I miss you,” he whispers, and her heart starts to beat just that bit faster; “but - I can’t do this, El.”   
  
She swallows, looking down. Her fingers bite into the wood of the door. “Can’t do what?”   
  
“Louis - he  loved you , so much. How can I - and you tell me you need me.” Niall shakes his head, reaches out with a trembling hand to trace the line of her cheek. “You don’t need anyone.”   
  
“But I want you.” It’s the last attempt she has, and her voice breaks on the last word. “Please.”   
  
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, sharp, looking anywhere but at her. “Please don’t try to talk to me again. It’s too hard.”   
  
“I love you,” she tells him instead of answering.    
  
Niall bites his lip. “Goodbye, El.”   
  
*   
  
But he comes back to her.   
  
It’s after their second tour ends; when they’re all home, he comes to her flat, knocks three times.   
  
She opens the door and she’s expecting anyone but him - has given up, to the point where it doesn’t hurt to think about it anymore.   
  
He swallows and his eyes trace the lines of her face. “Can I come in?” he asks, and he sounds sheltered, cautious.   
  
She nods, stepping aside, “Of course.”   
  
He sits on her couch and she takes a moment to herself because <i>holy shit</i> Niall is back.   
  
“I want you,” he tells her, and then “I miss you.”   
  
She bites her lip and nods. And that’s it; no other words are needed.   
  
They fuck like old times; like when they were too young for all this, for lying and cheating and love.   
  
(She still loves him, after all this time. Not in the way she once did, but in a slower, softer way that makes her smile instead of wince.   
  
He’s always been so lovely to her.)   
  
After, he rests a hand on her heart and feels it beat under his palm. “Can I stay?” he asks in the silence.   
  
She nods.   
  
*   
  
She wakes up with Niall next to her, sprawled out on the bed.   
  
Eleanor smiles.


End file.
